


A Good Boy Scout

by rabidchild67



Series: Undeniable Chemistry [15]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-15
Updated: 2012-10-15
Packaged: 2017-11-16 09:52:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,328
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/538202
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rabidchild67/pseuds/rabidchild67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neal and Clint go camping. It doesn’t go according to plan. An Undeniable Chemistry story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Good Boy Scout

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is another chapter in the “Undeniable Chemistry” ‘verse, but it is not necessary to have read the other stories. For the purpose of this one, it is set sometime after Neal's anklet has come off, and the two men are engaged.

“Come on, Neal, it’ll be fun – just you and me in the woods and no one around for miles. What do you say?” 

“You sure are giving this the hard sell,” Neal had observed with a raised eyebrow. “Why?”

Clint had tried his best to convince Neal to go camping with him this weekend. It was mid-October, the leaves in New Hampshire would be at their peak color, and he really just wanted to get away from the office and staff reviews and his caseload. And planning for the wedding and everything else that seemed to have come with it, especially his mother’s nearly hourly phone calls. He thought a weekend out of cell phone range would be just what the doctor ordered.

As he stood here now, taking shelter on the porch outside the log cabin they’d rented, a pouring rain having soaked them both, he wondered about the wisdom of that last part. 

“What do you mean you don’t have the key?” he asked Neal.

“You’re the one who took them from the rental agent,” Neal pointed out. They’d arrived mid-afternoon, and had decided to go on a hike. All of their gear, food and everything had already been moved into the cabin. Neal walked over to the front windows and peered in, his hands around his face to shield out the daylight. “Yep, I can see them on the table inside, right next to the sleeping bags. The nice, warm sleeping bags.” 

“You think you can pick it?” Clint asked, looking at the lock hopefully.

“With what, pine needles? I left my kit at home.” 

Clint felt a measure of love and affection wash over him suddenly, realizing that Neal hadn’t brought his picks with him – there was a time when the ex-conman wouldn’t have left home without them. That he had not brought them – however needed they were at this particular point – was a sign that Neal had truly left his old life behind, so much so that he was even forgetting certain behaviors that would have been instinct not too long ago. Clint would have kissed him, but didn’t want to call attention to his observation. Then he noticed that Neal was shivering. “You OK, babe?” he asked, strolling over and taking Neal into his arms. 

“Just got a chill.” He shivered again and shoved his hands into the back pockets of Clint’s jeans, leaning into Clint with his head on his shoulder.

Clint rubbed his upper arms and then pulled him closer again. “Aww, let me warm you up.” When Neal hadn’t stopped shivering after several minutes, Clint said, “Maybe we should get out of this damp. You got the car keys? We could run the engine.” 

Neal reached into the pocket of his anorak and winced. “I left them in my other coat. Which is inside, locked in. Oh, this is just terrific!” He pulled away from Clint and actually stomped his foot. 

If Neal wasn’t so clearly angry at himself, Clint would have commented on how adorable that was; for the moment, he thought it wiser to keep his mouth shut on that particular point. “Did you at least leave the car unlocked?”

“I don’t know – maybe?”

They pulled their hoods up against the rain and sprinted to Clint’s car which, luckily, Neal had neglected to lock. Clint pulled open the back door of the SUV and ushered Neal in ahead of him, pulled the door closed, and shimmied his hips around so he was facing Neal. Being out of the chilled air was a relief, but a short-lived one. Neal still huddled in the corner, hands miserably shoved into his pockets, shivering. “Come here,” Clint said, pulling Neal's hands into his lap and rubbing them. The skin was pale, dry and chapped, and Clint resolved to introduce his fiancé to the wonders of regular moisturizing. He lifted them and blew on the fingers, cupping them in his own hands gently. He glanced up and saw Neal watching him, an odd expression on his face. “What?” he asked self-consciously.

“I like you taking care of me,” he answered, his voice low, blue eyes hooded.

“Well, that’s a good thing, because soon you’ll be stuck with me forever.”

“I can think of worse sentences,” Neal said, turning his wrist so that he could grab Clint’s forearm, he pulled him forward for a kiss. 

Neal's lips on his were cool, a bit clammy from the rain, but his mouth as Clint explored it with his tongue was warm and sensual, his tongue ever elusive as it played against his. He tasted of the stirfry and green tea they’d had for lunch – hints of garlic and ginger with an overlay of peppermint Altoids. Clint wondered, fleetingly, if what they said about oral sex and Altoids was true and smiled a naughty smile against Neal's mouth. 

“What?” Neal asked, mid-kiss, sensing the smile.

“Nothing, come here,” Clint answered, moving his arm around Neal's lower back and pulling him closer. The small shock of cold water against his skin – some of the rain had run from his waterproof jacket between them and been soaked up by his jeans – reminded him they still had on their coats. “We should probably take these off.” He pulled away from Neal, who made a disappointing cooing sound, and worked at the zipper on his own jacket. 

“Seems counter-intuitive.”

“They’re wet, so they’ll stay cold,” Clint pointed out, and Neal didn’t seem inclined to disagree. “Besides, we can cover ourselves with them, and the insides are dry.” 

They spent a few minutes getting the jackets off, then settled against the back of the seat, Clint pulling Neal against and slightly on top of him. He slipped his arm beneath Neal, who curled his own arms between them with another shudder, hands clasped beneath his chin as if in prayer. The air in the car was chilly, but Clint thought they’d warm themselves up soon enough. “It won’t be that long,” he pointed out. “Didn’t the rental agent say she’d be by in the morning?” 

“Yeah, didn’t she say there was a window in need of repair, and she was coming by with the handyman?” Neal said, a hopeful note in his voice.

“See – we only have to rough it for the night.”

“Hurray,” Neal said unenthusiastically.

“Come on, babe, we’ll be together, alone, just like we planned,” Clint said, surprisingly not disappointed by this turn of events. Being able to focus on each other without the constant interruptions of their lives had been the entire point of this trip, even if their first night hadn’t turned out exactly as planned. He reached his hand up and hooked his index finger under Neal's chin, tilting his face up towards him to kiss him. 

“I suppose things could be worse,” Neal whispered when they parted, and he rested his forehead against Clint’s.

“How so?”

“I could be cold and wet and without you.”

Clint made an unintelligible sound and practically assaulted Neal’s mouth with his, a sudden warmth growing in his belly that soon spread outward, and he could feel his dick begin to take an interest in their close proximity. He soon had Neal on his back beneath him, kissing a sloppy line down his throat, though his shirt collar was most definitely getting in the way. “You know,” he spoke between kisses, “a better way,” _kiss,_ “to conserve,” _kiss,_ “body heat would be,” _kiss,_ “if we were,” _kiss,_ “naked.”

Neal ceased the rubbing of his fingers against the nape of Clint’s neck and gave him a long look. “Really, Clint? Skin-to-skin contact? Isn’t that a load of bullshit invented by bad writers to put TV characters into compromising situations?”

“No, it’s a legitimate first aid technique, and I ought to know because I was in the Navy,” Clint said, affecting an innocent and scholarly expression on his face; but still, he couldn’t look Neal in the eye lest he start to chuckle. 

“You’re so full of it,” Neal laughed.

Clint was laughing now too. “Hey, if it gets you naked, we all win,” he pointed out.

“I can think of no better way to warm up either. But I don’t suppose we could put these seat backs down, can we? It’s a little bit cramped down here.”

“A brilliant idea,” Clint pointed out, and jumped out of the car a little too enthusiastically into the rain – which had slowed from a torrential downpour to just a steady soaking – and ran to the back door. Pulling it open, he huddled under it to keep out of the rain and released the seat back on the one side. Once Neal had scrambled over, pulling their coats with him, he released the other seat, then stood back, suddenly grateful he’d gotten rid of his old sedan and bought this SUV. Crawling in, he pulled the door closed behind him to find a smiling Neal waiting for him.

“Ooo, better get that wet sweater off you,” Neal said. “Wouldn’t want you to catch a cold.”

“No, that would not be good.”

Within seconds, they were both shirtless, lying with the coats over them and their arms around each other. Once again, Clint’s mouth began to travel down Neal's throat, across his collarbone, sucking little marks along the way until he got to Neal's right nipple. There he took his time, first running the flat of his tongue against it and blowing, letting the cold air bring the sensitive nub to a hard point, then latching his mouth over it again, sucking. Neal arched his back, a hand at the back of Clint’s neck spurring him on. Clint smiled and turned his attention to the other one. 

Clint’s fingers traveled around to the waistband of Neal's pants as he rained a line of kisses down the hard muscles of Neal's belly, and were soon joined by the fingers of Neal's right hand, trying to undo them. Clint pulled back and let him, watching as he undid the top button with ease, pulling on the side with the button to get the zipper to open with a faint, _zzztt_. His cock was straining against the fastener, the sudden release of pressure making Neal groan. Clint pulled his hand away and bent his head to Neal's crotch, nuzzling against the slightly moist warmth, taking a deep breath to inhale the scent of his beloved, which made Clint’s own cock twitch in response. He glanced up at Neal, who lay watching him in the dim light left behind from the sun setting behind the low cloud cover. Neal's blue eyes were nearly black in this light, though Clint could just make out some portion of the whites of them, gleaming at him, a slight, expectant smile playing on his lips. Clint had to kiss him, then, halting his downward progress. “God, I love you,” he murmured, noticing they were no longer covered by their coats, not that it mattered. Neal's body was now radiating heat, as was evidenced by the sweat coating both their bodies as Clint held him and kissed him. 

Neal slowly managed to kick both his shoes and his trousers off, and had opened his thighs to allow Clint to rest his hips between them as they kissed. He pressed his hands against Clint’s buttocks, pulling them closer together, angling his own hips upward to increase the contact between the two of them. “Want you so bad,” Neal said, his lips brushing Clint’s earlobe as he tried to push his hands down the back of Clint’s jeans, though he was having little luck. Clint got to his knees then, fumbling with his belt and fly, pushing his jeans to his knees. He sat on his hip to push them down and off, toeing his boots off as best he could. Impatient, Neal reached out, pushing his hands inside Clint’s boxer briefs grasping his length and pulling it out into the still-cool air. 

“Want you so bad,” he gasped, stroking Clint to full hardness.

“Neal, oh, Neal,” Clint whispered as Neal's mouth found his in the lowering light. 

Neal rolled over onto his back, pulling Clint on top of him. Their cocks were trapped between their bodies, the friction simultaneously maddening and delicious.

“Inside me, please,” Neal moaned against Clint’s shoulder, pulling his knees up and squeezing Clint’s ribs between his thighs.

“You got – you got anything?” Clint breathed, closing his eyes and concentrating on not exploding into Neal's hand, which he was now using to stroke both of their dicks together. 

Neal nodded. “Wallet.”

Clint pushed himself up, reaching down around Neal's feet to find his pants and the wallet in the back pocket. Inside, instead of cash, he found two rubbers and two single-use packets of K-Y. “I thought _I_ was the Boy Scout,” he joked, tossing aside the wallet and tearing open one of the packets of lube with his teeth. 

“Being prepared is not just a motto, it’s been my life’s work,” Neal said solemnly. 

Clint laughed and settled himself beside his fiancé, coating his fingers with lube and pressing his fingertip against Neal's hole. He felt the flesh tremble and pucker, and it made him smile. He slowly worked one finger in, settling himself along Neal's body as he did, kissing him as he worked him, judging from his reactions when the time was right for a second finger. Neal gasped impatiently as Clint scissored his fingers inside him, but Clint muttered something about being prepared again and he bit his lip. The sight of Neal's perfect white teeth tearing lightly at his swollen, beard-burned bottom lip _did things_ to Clint, and he crooked his fingers inside, finding Neal's prostate and pressing it firmly.

Neal's eyes flew open and he cursed. “If you keep that up, I’ll come just from your hand,” he warned. Clint wanted to see that happen – someday, but not today. “Patience, patience,” he admonished, but still eased his fingers out and, fumbling around for the condom, he tore the wrapper open with his teeth. Once he had it on, he slicked himself and Neal up with the remaining packet of lube and pulled Neal toward him so that his back was flat on the floor. Situating himself, he rested Neal's knees around his waist, then lifted Neal's hips up with both hands. There was barely enough light to see now, and he poked around once or twice without success until finally he felt Neal's hand on him, guiding his cock to Neal's entrance. “There we go,” Neal whispered as Clint pressed the head of his dick past the initial resistance.

“Your good deed for the day?”

“Told you I was a good boy scout,” Neal said from between gritted teeth, then let his head drop back, the faint light remaining affording Clint a vague impression of the white column of his neck. Clint pushed in slowly, until he felt Neal open up for him and he was finally balls-deep. He pulled out gingerly, just as slowly as before. 

“Can you – you know…” Neal gasped, breathless. Clint always liked to go slow at first, because that’s how he liked it when Neal fucked him. But Neal, despite the documented fact he had the patience of a saint – waiting four years and more for Kate, the first of many examples – liked it harder and faster. Obliging him, Clint snapped his hips forward, driving himself home so forcefully, he could hear Neal's jaw click shut. 

“Fucking hell,” Neal moaned, hips twitching, but he strained to get up on his elbows. “More!”

Clint pulled out and then drove back in again, and again, his balls and thighs slapping against Neal, practically the only sound in the car until Neal began moaning. “More! Please! Faster!” These as well as several more curse words tore from Neal's mouth as Clint fucked him, hard and fast, his hips making stuttering movements. It was too dark now, but from his muffled sounds, Clint imagined Neal was biting onto the knuckle of his right index finger, as he often did in this position. He wished he could see it, but thought perhaps another tack would work. 

“What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” Neal panted, his voice breaking. “I’m balancing my checkbook.”

Clint rolled his eyes. “Where are your hands?” he said slowly, his voice deepening.

Neal seemed to get it. “Well, one of them is squeezing the hell out of my nipple. The left one.”

“And the right?” The sensation of two of Neal's fingers sliding past his own balls to align around his stretched hole as Clint drilled into him answered that question. 

“Stop touching yourself.”

“What?”

“Want to make you come from my dick only.”

“You dirty, dirty boy.” Neal's voice was low, dark, like chocolate. “Challenge accepted. I’m leaking all over the place as it is. Come on, baby, show me what you got.”

Grinning, Clint reached down and unhooked Neal's legs from around his hips. Pressing them forward, nearly bending Neal in half, he resettled them, Neal's socked feet resting on either side of his head. At this angle, the penetration would be deeper – he knew from personal experience. He leaned forward, propping himself up on his left hand.

“You been working out?” Neal asked, adopting a nonchalant tone, but Clint could hear the strain in his voice. 

“You know damn well I have.” Clint took that moment to begin pummeling into Neal, fucking him harder and harder.

“Aye, Jesus!” Neal gasped, rocking his hips up as far as this position allowed. “Harder, harder,” he chanted, and Clint obliged. Neal whined, groaned, moaned Clint’s name. At last, as the sounds rose to a crescendo that Clint was very familiar with, he pulled out completely, waited a beat, and then slammed himself back inside. 

“Whatthefuckwasthat?” Neal said on a startled gasp, so Clint did it again, and a third time. On the third thrust, he stayed there, grinding his hips into Neal's ass, using his toes for leverage and pressing into him as hard as he could. He was vaguely aware that Neal's head was now hanging over the ledge of the seat back, and he put his hand up to catch the headrest of the driver’s seat to stop their momentum. With a single shout, Neal's cock exploded all over the both of them, and Clint wasn’t far behind, screwing his eyes shut so hard he saw stars, and coming so hard he wondered if the condom would break.

Neal whimpered as Clint pulled gently out of him, and he found Neal’s face with his hands and kissed him on his slack mouth. “Did I hurt you?”

“In the best possible way,” Neal sighed, draping heavy arms around Clint’s neck. Clint felt around for his undershirt and clumsily tried to clean them both off, the darkness making it more a guess than anything. Neal's hand on his jaw distracted him, and they kissed each other sloppily, tiredly. 

They settled back finally under their two coats as the combination of the cold air and the sweat on their skin conspired to undo the warming-up they’d just worked so hard for. Clint lay with his head resting on what he guessed were his own crumpled-up jeans, Neal's head resting in the crook between his neck and shoulder, and tried not to fall to sleep.

“Just thought’a somethin’,” Neal said, his voice drowsy as he snuggled in close to Clint.

“Hmm?”

“I’m Neal Fucking Caffrey.”

“Mmm-hmm,” Clint agreed tiredly, not quite knowing where he was going with this.

“I can hotwire Airforce One, Clint, I could’ve started this car and we could be in a hotel somewhere by now.”

“Oh,” Clint replied sheepishly, wishing he’d thought of that. “Want to get going, then?”

He listened to their combined breathing for a minute before Neal finally spoke, “Nah. I think we figured out a good way to keep warm.”

\----

Thank you for your time.


End file.
